


Thunderstruck

by CronbachAlpha



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, I Don't Even Know, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Rare Pairings, Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-10-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 15,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CronbachAlpha/pseuds/CronbachAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Thor and Clint got together, it shocked the team. After all, it was Thor’s brother who brainwashed Clint, and Clint was still sore over the fact that Thor forbade him from using Loki’s eyeball for target practice." A collection of short stories featuring Thor and Clint's insane - but loving - relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Where Clint Hates F•R•I•E•N•D•S

**Author's Note:**

> Someone once dared me to write Thor/Clint. This was the result. They have now created a monster.

When Thor and Clint got together, it shocked the team. After all, it was Thor’s brother who brainwashed Clint, and Clint was still sore over the fact that Thor forbade him from using Loki’s eyeball for target practice. They did fight well alongside each other and got along, but no one expected anything more from the two other than a grudging – and possibly strained –friendship.

  
What they didn’t expect was for Thor and Clint to become some sort of an item.

  
Their relationship wasn’t normal by any means of the definition (which, for a team with a super human, a god, and a man who could turn into a green, hulking monster, was saying a lot). In fact, it bordered on insanity half the time, but they held a strong affection for each other.

  
Initially, Clint and Thor kept to themselves, but the day Tony barged into Clint's quarters and found the archer mewling like a kitten under the god, he knew the whole team would know within ten minutes. Thor was pleased to know his stake on Clint was now official, and all Clint wanted to do was hit Tony in the mouth after dubbing them “ThunderHawk”.

  
Well, he would have, if only Thor didn’t spot Clint grinding his teeth and wrapped his arms around his chest the exact moment Clint went for Tony. He really hated the fact that Thor knew all his tells like Natasha. The only difference was Natasha would let him loose and Thor kept him on a short leash. The thunder god only needed to throw Clint THAT look and the marksman would back down.

  
They were happy in their own way. They would banter, fight, drink, and then Thor would drag the archer off and they would disappear until the next day. Clint found that when Thor was in the mood, it lasted virtually the whole day. Clint could barely keep up with him and was thankful that Thor would give him time to recover, ranging from sleep or needing meals or the like. He doubted he’d ever be able to keep up with the god, but it certainly was fun trying.

  
The problem now was Thor took up watching television shows while waiting for Clint to recuperate.

  
“I do not understand,” Thor said, his deep voice waking Clint from a sex-induced slumber. The archer murmured, his back against Thor’s side, eyes still closed.

  
“…And what’s that?” he asked, knowing full well he was going to regret it.

  
“Ross is clearly the largest friend, so why doesn’t the one called Rachel give in to his clear affections?”

  
Clint had to open one eye at that. He twisted his head to look up at the god, the man’s arms crossed over his chest, staring at the laptop screen with confusion.

  
“…You’re watching _Friends_?” Clint asked, dumbfounded.

  
“I believe that is the name,” Thor nodded.

  
As far as Clint was concerned, Thor’s taste in sitcoms was downright terrible.

  
“…I can’t believe you’re watching _Friends_ ,” was all Clint could manage, laying his head back down.

  
“I believe you Midgardians consider it one of the greatest shows of your “nineties” period,” Thor countered.

  
“It’s a bunch of people who want to have sex with each other and do,” Clint murmured, closing his eyes again. “Except the brother and sister obviously,” he quickly added. Not like that would make Thor pause, if those Norse myths were correct. He really hoped the one with the eight legged horse wasn’t…  


  
“But the one named Ross is clearly the most pleasing. He is the most intelligent and his height would produce desirable offspring,” Thor explained. “The one called Joey is not a provider and he is a gluttonous creature. The one named Chandler….I do not know what to make of this Chandler…”

  
“…You do realize you’re analyzing _Friends_ , right?” Clint grumbled, rolling over to look up at Thor. He wished Thor would just shut up about Ross and Rachel and let him sleep for a few more minutes.

  
“I am merely asking a question,” Thor reasoned. Clint just sighed.

  
“How should I know?” Clint murmured. “I avoided watching it while it was on and I don’t plan on watching it now,”

  
“She is with him, and then she leaves him when it is clear they are on “a break”,” Thor commented, using air quotes to Clint’s amusement. The god never tired using that gesture – Thor’s fondness for the air quotes rivaled Clint’s fondness for the middle finger. “Now she attempted to ruin his wedding to the one called Emily by stating her desires. After he states her name in his vows, she refuses to give into her feelings,”

  
“…How long have you been watching this?” Clint asked. He was already getting a headache trying to follow Thor’s recap.

  
“I began a few days ago. I found it on that service. I believe I am on season five,” Thor said, finally turning to look down at Clint, using one hand to gesture to the laptop. Clint was starting to regret introducing Thor to Netflix, let alone the laptop.

  
“…A few days ago? Season five? Jesus Christ, Thor…are you marathoning it or something?”

  
“There is not much I can do while you rest,” Thor stated. “While I enjoy watching you sleep, I found that it is best to keep myself distracted or else risk waking you.”

  
Thor absentmindedly rubbed his chin then as his eyes wandered over Clint’s semi bare form before returning to his show. The first, and last, time Thor tried to wake Clint in a less-than-chaste manner the archer elbowed him in the chin; hard enough it sent the god flying onto the floor.

  
“Do you care to join me?” the thunder god asked, snapping Clint out of his thoughts.

  
“I would rather shoot myself in the foot,” Clint murmured, burying his face into the pillow. He mentally reminded himself to never let anyone introduce Thor to _Dallas_.

  
“You do not like the friends?”

  
“No, I don’t,” Clint mumbled.

  
“Hmm. I can see why some may not like it,” Thor nodded. “The one called Rachel is quite infuriating – they were clearly on “a break” and yet it is solely the one called Ross’ fault. Why can she not admit her feelings?”

  
“Because if they got together you’d stop watching it,” Clint mumbled into the pillow.

  
“Why? I enjoyed watching Ross and Rachel as a couple. Although, the weak-willed, indecisive Ross is not very endearing…and now Ross is chasing the one called Emily who jumped out of the bathroom window,” Thor continued, oblivious.

  
“Thor, I really don’t care,”

  
“…I would like to smash the whiny Ross’ face with Mjölnir-”

  
Clint finally propped himself up, staring at Thor.

  
“If I go down on you, will you **stop** fucking talking about Ross and Rachel!?”

  
The thunder god’s grin made Clint wonder if that was his plan the entire time.


	2. Overprotective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's stubborn. Good thing Thor is too.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. All Clint needed to do was keep his position, keeping the perimeter secure and letting the team take care of the inside threat.

He fired a shot and quickly reloaded a bolt, watching the silhouette of a man go down. There was something about sniping at night that he found satisfying – almost like nature itself was on his side. He loved the silence, the darkness, the wind past his ears. In a weird way, he felt most at peace in combat then anyplace else.

Suddenly, there was a crackle and a bright flash illuminated the area around him. A _whooshing_ sound went past his ears followed by a thud, an unmanly scream, and the sound of a body clumping to the floor.

Clint cringed, lowering the crossbow. He screwed his eyes shut as his lips curled into a snarl, slowly counting to ten. There was only one reason for a pillar of horizontal lightning that close to the ground.

He rolled onto his side, turning his head. The thunder god stood over a guard Clint had missed, fists clenched. Even in the dark Clint could see his blue eyes were hot with rage. He merely stared down at the whimpering man, who most likely had a shattered chest when the god threw his hammer.

“…God **DAMNIT** , Thor!” Clint hissed. He turned his head back to the field and fired off another round before turning his head back to Thor, who had now retrieved his weapon and was contemplating smashing Clint’s would-be-killer into a pulpy paste. The archer quickly gathered up his weaponry, prepared to move. “Are you trying to blow me cover? It’s kind of hard to hide a PILLAR of lightning,” he snapped, standing before the god. He went to shove past him when Thor put one of his huge hands on his chest, stopping him.

“You did not see this man?” Thor asked in his loud, thunderous voice. The archer merely glared up at the man; he refused to admit to the man he may have slipped up.

The injured thug whimpered and Thor glanced back down at him before kicking his head, knocking the man out. Clint was guessing some of his own tendencies were rubbing off on the god.

“I would have heard him,” Clint grumbled.

“Clinton Barton.”

When Thor was happy with him, he was called Clint or Little Hawk. When Thor was upset, it was Clinton. When he was really upset (particularly pissed off), it was Clinton Barton.

“Thor, I’ve done this many a time without a spotter,” Clint said, rolling his eyes.

"You have done this before?” Thor nearly bellowed.

Clint wondered if he could get any louder.

“Will you lower your voice?” Clint hissed, miming with his hands. “The point of being a sniper is to not be seen,”

“How many times have you been wounded because you were unaware of a threat?” Thor demanded. His voice was louder now, maybe out of spite.

“Only a few times – mostly gun shot wounds. One thought he would be smart and try to stab me in the back,”

“That is where the scars on your back came from?”

“You don’t exactly complain about those scars,” Clint added, dryly, recalling Thor’s fondness to touch and kiss those scars.

Another thug barged in, gun ready. Thor didn’t take his eyes off Clint as he threw his hammer, which ended up hitting the man in the chest and making him crumple to the floor as the air was sucked out of his lungs. He raised his arm and held it open as Mjölnir faithfully returned to him. He kept his eyes glued on Clint.

“…You know when you do that you freak me out, right?” Clint said after a beat, watching the man whimper on the floor.

“If I were not here, you would have been injured,” Thor stated.

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Clint grumbled, pushing past Thor only to let out a choking sound when the god gripped his shirt collar.

“You are a reckless warrior,” Thor commented, yanking Clint back. The archer hacked at the gesture and Thor patted his head in apology.

“Reckless? You lit up the entire area with a fucking thunderbolt! You gave away my position!” Clint snapped, voice rising.

“I value your well being more than your position,” Thor stated. “I have given you my oath that I would ensure your protection and I plan on upholding that oath.”

Thor’s chivalry often made Clint shiver with arousal, but today it just made him want to hit his lover in the mouth with a brick.

“So you were…what? Following me?”

"I cleared my section and I wanted to ensure you were alright,” Thor shrugged. “I am glad I came to observe you, for this one was sneaking up behind you.”

Thor pointed down to the knocked out man at his feet.

“You know, I would have gotten him myself,” Clint growled.

“Interesting, seeing as I watched as you remained ignorant of his presence for quite some time,” Thor countered.

“You’re so fucking overprotective,”

“I do not see the shame in being so,”

“I’m not the one who almost broke Rogers’ shield over his head for accidently giving me a concussion.”

Clint felt smug when Thor opened his mouth and sputtered. It was an accident really. Steve sometimes forgot his own strength and sent Clint into the wall; Thor tried to bludgeon him in response. He would have succeeded if Bruce hadn’t sedated him. It always amazed Clint to see how their sedatives made Thor drop like a sack of cement.

“I apologized to Rogers after the incident,” Thor said carefully. “But you were out for a while with that injury,” he added. Clint just raised an eyebrow at him and Thor murmured. “I cannot help this feeling,”

“I know…look, I appreciate the thought but…could you be a bit more, I don’t know, subtle?”

Thor gave Clint a blank look.

“I do not understand.”

Clint stared at the man in disbelief. He went to open his mouth to speak when he became aware of a large group of armed men heading in their direction. He sighed, loading the crossbow as Thor lifted Mjölnir.

“You know if you just let me do my job we wouldn’t be having this problem right now,” Clint stated, readying himself. Thor merely rolled his eyes, shaking his head in faux-assent.

“I apologize,” he stated, sarcastically.

Sometimes, it was just best to let Clint think he won.


	3. Photographic Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey, remember Clint had that cameo in Thor?

Thor smiled, eyes closed as Clint lay curled up on him, panting softly, skin sleek and glistening with sweat. He was sitting, his back against the head board, the thin sheet was pooling down Clint’s hips. His arms were wrapped around the archer’s waist, holding him still against his chest, basking in afterglow. Clint murmured, his arms wrapped loosely around the god’s neck. He muttered something, making Thor tilt his head in confusion.

“I beg pardon, Little Hawk?” Thor asked.

Clint murmured and lifted his head, blue-gray eyes meeting sapphire.

“I said…don’t be so smug…”

“I am not smug,” Thor scoffed.

Clint rolled his eyes, getting comfortable against Thor. The god smiled, leaning his head against the headboard, eyes closed.

“I find it very fortunate that you were the one that my brother had selected,” Thor said.

Clint frowned and punched him in the chest and Thor winced.

“Hell does that mean?”

“Well, if it were not for my brother, you would not have joined this team and we would never have met,” Thor clarified.

“What the hell are you talking about? We met when you first came to Earth,” Clint corrected as Thor gave him a puzzled look.

“We did not meet then,” the thunder god stated.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Yeah we did…well, you didn’t see me. But I saw you. I remember because you beat the shit out of half of Coulson’s men and I ended up rooting for you,”

“Did I hit you?” Thor asked, worriedly.

“No, I was in a higher position ready to take you out. Then Coulson decided to see what would happen if you got to the hammer. Wasn’t sure how smart that was, considering we had no idea what it did, what you were like, and what it’d do to you.” Clint tilted his head, thinking.

“…Yeah, we’re really not that bright at times,” Clint admitted. “Anyways, the only reason I remember was because you couldn’t pull it out,”

“I was not worthy of Mjölnir at that point,” Thor huffed.

“I won’t ask. Anyways, I was watching you try to pull it out and I think I still got pictures on my phone.”

Thor looked down at Clint then.

“…You took pictures?”

“Thor, your arms are as big as my head and you couldn’t pull out a hammer and you had men surronding you. I wasn't really needed at the moment. How could I not take a picture or two?” Clint shrugged. He was unable to hide his grin.

“…Let me see your photographic telephone,” Thor stated.

“What? You mean my cell phone. Why would…? Oh, no, I’m not giving it to you to break,” Clint said, jabbing his finger into Thor’s chest.

“It is shameful,” Thor exclaimed.

“It’s _hilarious_ ,” Clint smirked. “Relax; I’m not going to share it with anyone”

“I do not believe you knowing your past behaviors,”

“Well if I make a mistake, you can always punish me,”

“I’d rather not give you an incentive.”

Clint just smirked.


	4. Courtship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even Thor knew he had to go through Natasha first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do realize this contradicts the first story in here, so consider this a bit of a retcon. Because, when you think about it, I highly doubt Natasha's going to let anyone court her Budapest-bro without going through her first.

When Natasha saw Thor coming, she knew that the god was scheming. The only reason she knew that was he was dressed in his full armor – complete with that awkward helmet of his – and he looked serious.

Thor was never serious. Half the time, the man was happy like a puppy. And twice as energetic. And destructive.

“Warrior Natasha,” Thor stated in his thunderous voice, dropping down to one knee, staring up at her.

Natasha gave Thor a hard look in a way that would send lesser men scurrying. The god remained firm, standing tall.

“What is it, Thor?” Natasha asked, jumping straight to the point. She was not one to believe in small talk. Fortunately, Thor was always straight and to the point.

“I seek your permission to court the one called Clinton Barton.”

Maybe overly so.

Natasha stared. That was the last thing she expected him to ask. Actually, she wasn’t sure what the god was going to ask her.

“…You want to court Clint,” Natasha parroted back, letting the god’s request sink in.

“That is correct,” Thor nodded.

“…You know, your brother brainwashed him,” Natasha said.

"I have not forgotten,”

“And you honestly think he’s going to be okay with this?”

“I do not see why it would be a problem.”

Natasha had to stare. She had to wonder how Thor thought things out – Loki brainwashes Clint, Clint nearly kills them, Clint tries to jam an arrow into Loki’s brain, Clint nearly beats Thor into a coma when Thor states he’ll let Clint take his aggressions out on him, therefore Clint would desire Thor’s companionship.

The god truly redefined the term “odd”.

“Thor, your brother kind of…to put it nicely, really fucked him up and nearly killed his team,” Natasha said, dryly. “I doubt Clint’s going to want to get involved with that sort of family,”

“I swear on the Allfather and on Mjölnir that I will not allow Clinton Barton to be harmed and that I grant him protection,” Thor stated. “If my brother wishes to try again, he will dearly regret it.”

A small part of Natasha cringed that that. The last thing Earth needed was for two gods to be fighting over their archer. Amusing as it was, she was pretty sure the two men would level a few cities first before Banner stepped in and once again used Loki for a game of whack the mole.

And then she’d get Thor into a chokehold.

She could tell by Thor’s eyes that he was serious, and she could sense some sort of fear or apprehension at her decision.

Good.

 

Natasha found Clint on one of the highest beams of the ship bay, watching as the carrier's jets were brought in to be repaired. She wasn’t one for heights like Clint was – heights and Clint went together like Simon and Garfunkel or Seals and Croft, she swore – but she felt she needed to speak with him. Urgently.

She startled Clint when she climbed up, her boots hitting the metal ground with a clang. The archer jumped and then stared at Natasha, his eyes blinking.

“…Okay who’s dying?” Clint asked.

“No one’s dying,” Natasha scoffed as she sat down next to the archer. She was wondering how the man never got dizzy at this height. “I can’t come up and say hello?”

“No,” Clint added, empathically. “Who is dying?”

“No one is dying,” Natasha restated, mock shoving Clint. “I just wanted to talk.”

Clint eyed her, doubtfully.

“Nothing good happens to me when you want to just talk.”

Natasha would have argued otherwise, but the evidence sided with Clint. She decided to jump right to the point.

“How do you feel about Thor?” Natasha asked. Clint blinked.

“Thor?”

“The blonde Viking, yes,”

“Never really thought about it…well, he and I get along well. He’s a good fighter. Bit overly boisterous but it suits him. Why?”

Natasha went to speak when there was a thud and they both jumped. She could already tell Clint was greatly annoyed about people interrupting his personal space.

She looked past him to see Thor sitting on Clint’s other side, looking overly pleased with himself. She sometimes forgot he could fly. How else did he get up here?

“…Oh, no reason,” Natasha said. The back of Clint’s head was facing her, but she knew he was staring at Thor, eyes unblinking.

“Clinton Barton, I have spoken with the Warrior Natasha.”

Clint blinked and then slowly turned his head to stare at Natasha. She really hated it when he didn’t blink. It was the look she expected a killer to have as he stabbed someone to death in a shower.

“…Oh, what did you do?” Clint asked her, slowly.

“She has agreed to my courting of you,” Thor said, pleased.

Natasha swore if Clint moved his head any faster he was going to get whiplash.

“…She has what-COURTING?”

Natasha fought a smirk; she loved it when Clint’s walls came down and he was left as a sputtering, confused mess, voice rising with each word.

Thor nodded taking his hands. Clint glanced down at his hands, then up at Thor’s face, then to Natasha’s, then back to Thor’s in total confusion.

“I desire to court you, Clinton Barton,” Thor rephrased. “I have sworn to Warrior Natasha and the Allfather that I will ensure your safety from here to eternity and I will let no harm come to you if you so desire.”

Clint was still silent. Natasha was positive his eyes were still as big as saucers.

“…Whu?”

Yep. Thor broke Clint, she mused.

“I grant you my protection – even if you do not agree to this courting, I still swear to protect you.”

Clint just stared and then turned his head back to Natasha.

“…Natasha agreed, did she?” he asked giving her an odd look.

“That she has. I have agreed that if I bring harm to you – unintentionally or intentionally, physically or emotionally – that I allow her to put me into what you call a “choke hold” and that she may beat me into a state of unconsciousness,” Thor nodded.

Clint continued to give Natasha an odd look.

“…You two certainly came to a set of terms on this…” Clint said his voice stoic and unreadable.

“We indeed have. Therefore, I seek your permission to court you,” Thor said again, making Clint look at him. Natasha could tell Thor was antsy, eagerly awaiting Clint’s response.

Clint was still in a daze. He was quiet for what seemed like an eternity before managing to get out “Alright…?”

Thor’s face lit up at that.

“I promise you, Clinton Barton, that I will make you very happy.”

With that he took Clint’s face in his hands and kisses him, hard. Natasha watched Clint’s entire body freeze in panic as his brain frantically tried to figure out what the hell he was expected and supposed to do.

Finally, Thor released his grip.

“I will let you return to your conversation,” Thor said, joyously, before hopping back down, causing a few personal to run around in startled panic when he hit the ground with a thud.

Clint didn’t move for a while after that. He finally turned around to stare at Natasha, his eyes wide and confused.

“…What the hell just happened?” Clint asked.

“You agreed to Thor courting you.”

Natasha was enjoying Clint’s confusion too much. He just stared at her.

“This is kind of like Vienna,” Natasha explained. “Except this time it’s real and not a con,”

“…You know, I’m pretty sure this is nothing like Vienna...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus far, this is easily my favorite story.


	5. You're Cute When You're Jealous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's not jealous of Jane Foster.

Clint wasn’t jealous. It wasn’t any of his business why they needed Jane Foster’s help. Why should he care? It’s not like she and Thor had a deep, complex relationship based on trust, camaraderie, and the ability to survive an alien invasion without a scratch.

He drew an arrow and fired as he continued to walk, hitting the target dead center.

He wasn’t jealous when she stared at him like he was a Chippendale when it was clear Thor’s affections were elsewhere. It wasn’t any of his business.

He fired again.

He set up his own targets to relieve his boredom as Thor met with her to discuss something about a bridge. Not because he wanted to imagine they were Jane Foster’s smiling, man-ogling face.

“Nice shot, Merida.”

Clint ignored Tony as he walked and fired at again another target, drawing his bow again.

“What do you want, Stark?”

“Oh, thought I’d come by and see how you were,” Tony said, walking towards him as Clint drew and fired another arrow. He paused, walking down to one of the targets as Clint began to pull his arrows out to start again.

"So…Thor’s with Foster?” Tony asked, carefully. Normally, he’d be teasing the archer, but even he knew not to press Clint’s buttons when he had his bow armed.

“How would I know?” Clint said, trying to be flippant, firing off his final arrow, watching it hit the target.

“Well, I could be wrong, but when you’re shooting targets, you’re supposed to go for the centermost ring. Not the target’s _eye_. Or, where the eye would be anyways,”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Clint lied.

“If that’s the case you’re easily the world’s worst marksman,” Tony stated, moving away as Clint yanked the arrow out of the target, frowning when his elbow missed Tony’s smug face.

“You have this thing with eyeballs when you get stressed,” the billionaire observed, following Clint, still smiling. The archer glowered.

“I do not,” Clint snarled with more venom than he wanted.

“Ooooh, someone is touchy today,” Tony grinned.

Clint momentarily considered if Fury would reprimand him for shooting Tony in the eye and decided the paperwork wasn’t worth it. Instead, he opted to ignore Tony, who decided to push his buttons harder.

“I don’t exactly blame you – that girl’s not bad to look at,”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Clint said through gritted teeth, turning to give Tony a look that promised a slow, painful, humiliating death.

“I mean, she’s got the brains, the body, the whole package, really. But he picked you, which I guess says something,”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” Clint asked dryly. “If so, you’re doing a fucking terrible job at it.”

 

Clint was still in a bad mood when Thor finally returned, still busy firing off at his targets. Although, hitting Tony in the mouth for his running commentary made him feel marginally better. Served him right, Clint thought.

“The Man of Iron told me you were practicing,” Thor said in his booming voice. Clint grumbled and fired off another arrow. Thor paused, watching him for a while before adding “He states you feel inferior to the Lady Jane?” as Clint went to fire again.

The arrow went flying over the target then. Thor blinked, watching it fall into the ground, turning back towards his lover.

“Why the hell would he say that?” Clint asked, trying to keep from screaming.

“So he is correct,”

“I am not jealous.”

Thor just smiled, placing a large hand on Clint’s shoulder.

“You jealousy is very endearing, Little Hawk,” Thor smiled. “But I assure you, I am faithful only to you,”

“…I am not jealous,” Clint grumbled. Thor just smiled a winning smile.

“Would you like it if I reaffirmed my loyalty?” the thunder god asked, making circles on Clint’s shoulder with his thumb, causing the archer to glance down, feeling relaxed and content.

“…I hate how you do this,”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm genuinely surprised that, of all the few Thor/Clint fics I've found, no one's really covered the whole "Jane Foster was really into Thor" thing. Unfortunately, I don't think I really did that great a job. Ah well.


	6. I met a girl who sang the blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint doesn't like people to know he can sing. Thor plans to keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once I found out Jeremy Renner could sing, I had to do this. Obvious song was obvious (put "Jeremy Renner American Pie" into YouTube to listen to him sing if you have not yet done so). I have no idea how to describe his singing voice. Nothing I put down did it justice.

            Clint always came down to the range at night when it was empty; every night, without fail, for about an hour or two. No one wanted to shoot that late at night, and Clint didn’t like people. For him, it worked.

           Not for Thor.

           Thor usually left Clint alone, but curiosity got the better of him and he quietly snuck his way down to the range.

            Well, as quiet as he could. Thor wasn’t gifted with Clint’s cat like grace. And he was much heavier. Quiet for him was the equivalent of a bull in a china shop.

           He found his lover in the farthest range with his equipment. Clint had ear buds in, an MP3 player of sorts strapped to his arm, listening to music as he prepped his bow. He wore his oddly colored, dark, purple and red tinted sun glasses, shielding his eyes from the bright fluorescent lights.

           Thor was initially confused. He had seen Clint down at the range many a time before with people. Why did he need to come down now?

           As he approached – Clint’s music hiding his heavy steps – he finally understood.

            “ _Did you write the Book of Love and do you have faith in God, above? If the Bible tells you so / now, do you believe in Rock and Roll? Can music save your mortal soul? And / can you teach me how to dance real slow?”_

            Thor stared.

            Clint could sing?

            The god stopped, completely enthralled. Clint’s voice was rich, soulful, and gritty. Ever word that came from his was heavy and full of passion. Thor was stunned, watching Clint pull out an arrow and loading it into his bow, still singing.

            “ _Well, I know that you're in love with him, 'cause I saw you dancing in the gym /  
You both kicked off your shoes - man, I dig those rhythm and blues / I was a lonely, teenage broncin' buck with a pink carnation and a pickup truck, but / I knew I was out of luck the day the music died._ ”

            Thor stared, watching Clint flex his shoulders, raising the bow as he drew the arrow back against his cheek, never skipping a beat.

            “ _I started singing, bye bye Miss American Pie / Drove my Chevy to the levee, but the levee was dry / Them good ol' boys were drinking whiskey and rye, singing / This'll be the day that I die / This'll be the day that I die._ ”

            Thor could no longer keep his silence.

            “You have a lovely voice, Little Hawk.”

            Clint jumped as he released his arrow, which wobbled and hit the very corner of the target. He ripped his ear-buds out and pulled his sunglasses off, whipping his head around to stare at Thor with wide, gunmetal-blue eyes.

            Maybe Clint was right –Thor needed to be more aware of his thunderous voice.

            “THOR?” Clint exclaimed. “The HELL are you doing down here?”

            “I was wondering where you would disappear to,” Thor stated, walking towards his embarrassed an infuriated archer. “I was merely curious. I did not mean to startle you or invade your privacy,” he apologized.

            “YOU HEARD ME?” Clint snarled.

            Clearly Clint’s privacy was far from his mind. Thor merely blinked.

            “You are ashamed of your voice?” the god asked, genuinely perplexed.

            He swore a pink hue momentarily appeared on Clint’s cheeks before quickly vanishing. Thor merely laughed.

            “You are a man of many surprises, Clint Barton,” Thor said, unable to hide his grin. Clint merely rolled his eyes.

            “Don’t go around telling anyone or else I **will** use your eyeball for target practice,” the archer warned.

            Thor just smiled, going opposite of Clint to sit in a folding chair in the corner, ignoring Clint’s suspicious glare.

            “I promise to you that this will be our secret,” Thor nodded.

            Clint squinted at him for a long time before nodding his head. He put his glasses back on and picked up his ear-buds. Thor tilted his head.

            “However, I must ask. Will you sing for me?”

            Clint paused as he slipped the ear-buds in, turning to give Thor an unreadable look from his glasses. He didn’t say anything, nocking his arrow, drawing it back.

            Thor watched as Clint aligned the arrow with his target, the rich, soulful sound once again emerging.

            “ _Now, for ten years we've been on our own and moss grows fat on a Rolling Stone, but / That's not how it used to be…_ ”

            Thor just smiled, leaning back in his chair as Clint continued to sing.

            He knew that, from here on out, this would be their nightly thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics to "American Pie" belong to Don McLean. The title came from the song and initially it was "Chevy to the Levee", but that was too silly even for me. This is more of a fluff fic with dashes of humor compared to the others, so you can expect some more fluff from here an out. 
> 
> Also, I have no idea how to use nock as a verb. OH WELL.
> 
> The companion piece/sister story to this vignette, 'sew up the seams', is here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/737407


	7. Protocol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint wasn't sure if there was some rule about dating co-Avengers.

            Clint wasn’t quite sure how to bring this up to Fury. There had to be some sort of protocol for the Avengers Initiative – had to be. Even if the team was hastily created and quickly unified, Clint was sure there must have been some clause about dating your fellow Avengers, particularly if said fellow Avenger was a god.

             He wasn’t quite sure what to say to Fury, standing before the man in his office, trying to find the words, as Fury looked up at him with his one good eye. Outside the glass walls, Clint could see his comrades training.

            “You have something to say, Barton?” Fury finally asked.

            Clint became aware he had been stalling for close to ten minutes.

            “This isn’t exactly easy to say, Director, but…”

            “Is this about you and Thor?”

            Clint just stared. He did his best not to look shocked, but the glint in Fury’s eyes told him otherwise.

            “…Sir, may I ask…?”

            “How I knew? Unlike you, Barton, Thor has no poker face.”

            Clint had to agree to that.

            “That, and Natasha informed me that on your last mission he nearly broke your cover by throwing someone through a wall. _Through_ , Barton; not into.”

            Clint cringed then. He and Natasha were supposed to play a wealthy pair looking into the black market for illegal weapons. It was going well.

            That was, up until someone made a crude pass at Clint. The man in question was one of their mark’s closest men, and Clint wasn’t above flirting to get his information.

            Thor didn’t take it well. At all.

            “Sir, I swear it wasn’t planned,”

            “I’m not saying it was. Just would think you’d have better control over your…boyfriend.”

            Fury tentatively said “boyfriend”, unsure what the two men called each other.

            Clint fought a blush.

            “I am aware sir.”

            Fury looked at him through his good eye, as if he knew Clint’s unspoken question.

            “There’s no rule against it, Barton. I’d just…well, I’d ask if you kept him a bit on a leash…do I need to explain why?”

            At the same time they looked out the window, watching as Tony – in his suit – joked with Thor. The Ironman must have said something that upset the god, because Thor’s eyes narrowed into slits and darkened.

            Steve took a few steps back as Tony went flying out of eyesight, flinching as a loud, reverberating clang echoed.

            “…I’ll…talk to him, sir…”  
            “Good man, Barton. If only he’d save that for the battlefield,”

            “I think that’s a worse idea, sir.”


	8. Betting Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is a private man. Until he gets a few drinks in him and Tony makes bets with him.

            Clint was pretty good at holding his liquor. At least, when it came to beer. Distilled drinks were another creature entirely. Two glasses of those made the normally deadpan and snarky archer very relaxed and cheerful.

            It took Tony forever to realize that Clint was tipsy. The man didn’t exactly go red, giggle, hiccup, and tell Bruce in a slurred voice how much he loved him to Thor’s anger. Like the man, it was very subtle. His eyes would get this soft, glazed look and he’d smile more, hanging on Thor’s arm as they sat.

            Thor found it cute; Tony found it as a source of entertainment.

            Tony had been behaving, playing pool with Clint as the rest of the team conversed, but now it was getting boring. He spotted Clint leaning against his pool cue, eyes glazed and he realized entertainment found him. The waitress walked over and offered the archer another tumbler of whiskey and the man looked pale and shook his head. He was sober enough to turn it down, but tipsy enough to let his ambitions free.

            Perfect.

            “Hey, Legolas,” Tony said conversationally, hiding a grin.

            Clint looked at him through glassy eyes squinting.

            “What do you want, Stark?” Clint asked.

            “I was just thinking,” Tony said, hiding a smile. “I bet you couldn’t simultaneously arouse your thunder god there while horrifying Cap.”

            Clint just snorted.

            “Everything mortifies him,” Clint admitted.

            “True,” Tony said as he gauged a shot. “But, come on. You seriously can’t do anything subtle, yet crude, that would get both their attentions.”

            Clint gave Tony a glazed-eyed looked.

            “…You wanna make it interesting?”

            “I’ll gladly put down a hundred,” Tony nodded. If Clint could pull it off, he gladly would pay up. Roger’s expression would be priceless.

            Clint eyed him. Even while tipsy, the man was still sharp. Tony rolled his eyes.

            “I swear I’ll pay up if you can do it.”

            Clint eyed him and then nodded when his cloudy mind finally registered Tony’s comment. He merely smirked as the Iron Man took his shot, glancing at Thor as he made his way to the other side of the table. Tony, for his part, leaned back arms crossed, fighting a smirk.

            Clint bent slightly forwards, as if waiting to take a shot, but was instead focused on Thor. After a few minutes, the thunder god finally seemed to register Clint’s eyes on him and he looked over at his archer, perplexed. He glanced at Clint’s posture and rose one eyebrow as Clint gave him a sultry smile.

            Tony took the tumbler of whiskey from the waitress that Clint rejected, since it was the only way to keep him from grinning and laughing.

            Thor looked at Clint, perplexed. The archer merely smiled that sultry smile, making sure he had Thor’s attention when he took the shot, straightening himself up slightly. He nodded at Tony to take his shot and returned looking at Thor with that smile pool cue down by his hip. Absentmindedly, he ran his hand up and down the cue, slowly, which made Thor’s eyes widen.

            Tony was starting to regret making this bet. Not because Clint was winning – he was totally fine with paying out winnings – but rather because he knew if he started laughing, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

            Thor’s face was priceless. His blue eyes went wide and he leaned slightly, tilting his head as he stared at Clint. It was a mixture of shock that his normally reserved lover was being so…open, and what seemed to be the urge to drag Clint off for privacy.

            Steve, who had been sitting besides Thor, finally noticed the god was quiet and stared at his odd posture, confused. He raised an eyebrow as he took of a sip of his drink before looking up and finally seeing Clint. He paused for a few seconds as his eyes widened with shock and his face went red with horror and he almost spit out his drink onto Bruce, which would have ended ugly.

            In Steve’s defense Tony almost spit out his drink himself when Clint did that rather vulgar gesture with his tongue.

            The god’s eyes darkened and he muttered an apology before getting up. Steve went red and propped his elbow up on the table, using his hand to hide Clint from his vision.

            The archer grinned and stopped his antics when the god came up to him, staring down at Clint with dark eyes and sharp breaths. After a pause he took Clint’s forearm into his hand and squeezed in a rather clear gesture.

            Clint turned to Tony with a grin.

            “You owe me,” he said, bubbly, as Thor dragged him off.

            When he glanced over at the still pink Captain and then back to Thor dragging Clint out of the bar, Tony had to admit their archer deserved it.

 

 

 ~*~

            Clint woke the next morning, feeling exhausted. He mumbled, rolling over onto his side to bury his face into the warm, muscular mass that was Thor.

            He knew Thor was grinning. It was never good when Thor grinned.

            “…Why am I so tired?” Clint murmured into Thor’s chest.

            “We went out and had drinks last night,” Thor said, keeping his voice low for Clint’s sake. “You and Stark decided to play the pool game before you felt the desire to be pleasured,”

            “…Oh god…did I make an ass outta myself?” Clint moaned.

            “You made a rather inviting gesture with the pool stick,” Thor nodded. “And then with your tongue.”

            Clint groaned with embarrassment.

            “…Don’t tell me anyone saw,”

            “Nay, although Rogers went quite red for reasons I do not know. Also, an envelope arrived for you from Stark.”

            Clint raised his head at that, confused, as Thor picked an envelope off his nightstand, handing it to Clint. The man stared, confused, as he opened it, revealing five, crisp twenty dollar bills.

            It didn’t take Clint long at all to figure out what had happened.

            “…Remind me to kill Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came to me after seeing this very classy gif http://media.tumblr.com/cf728e6c5d3b7f721ca30c56dc0688c1/tumblr_inline_mj9q8nqT231qz4rgp.gif 
> 
> I had way too much fun writing Clint this OOC.


	9. Meet the Allfather I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor surprises Clint with a request.

           “YOUR FATHER WANTS TO WHAT!?”

            Thor stared down at Clint, the archer under him wrapped in his arms, snug against his chest. The two were enjoying the afterglow of their recent lovemaking, Clint’s face in the crook of Thor’s shoulder, letting out a purr (yes, a purr) as Thor stroked his back. 

            Ever since he received word that his parents desired to meet the man that had captured their son’s affections, Thor was never quite sure how to bring it up to Clint. The archer was still furiously bitter about Loki and had made comments regarding the Allfather’s parentage and questionable decisions regarding his sons. He held his tongue as he tried to figure out the best time to spring the fact on Clint.

            With Clint purring contently in his arms in a sex-induced high, Thor decided this would be the best moment to tell him. After all, he was beyond content – the request would roll off his back.

            Least, that’s what Thor thought.

            Instead, Clint’s eyes shot wide open and he lifted his head to give Thor an shocked expression mixed with something Thor couldn’t put his finger on – fury, maybe.

            “My parents – particularly my father – as well as my comrades desire to meet you,” Thor stated again. He was glad Clint wasn’t armed and that he held his archer in a tight grip so Clint wouldn’t be able to claw at his face in a rage.

            “You’ve got to be FUCKING kidding me!” Clint exclaimed.

            “I speak highly of you, Clint,” Thor nodded. “You are a kind, intelligent warrior and a talented artist – they are qualities that intrigue my parents,”

            “YOU TOLD THEM I SING!?”

            Thor knew he was not winning any points with Clint at the moment.

            “I am proud by your voice,” Thor calmly stated. “Do not be shamed by it,”

            “Goddamnit, Thor!”

            If Clint was a wild animal, Thor was positive he’d have his head bitten off by now.

            “Clint, please calm,” Thor said, soothingly.

            “Calm? CALM? How the hell am I supposed to calm down!?” Clint exclaimed in a shrilly voice. Thor tightened his grip so Clint couldn’t flail his arms about. “Your father – KING OF GODS – and other Asgardian – other GODS – want to meet me!? YOU DON’T SEE HOW THIS CAN BE STRESSFUL!?”

            “They are no different from I,” Thor reasoned.

            “Oh Christ – Thor, I AM MORTAL! I’m not Asgardian! Look, me? I can have three or four beers before feeling tipsy – you can drink an entire bar and STILL stay sober. We don’t have meals – I have a meal, you have a freaking feast. And I enjoy a good fight like any other person, but you’re GODS. I’m not like you or Rogers and shrug off a blow!”

            The god tilted his head in thought as Clint continued to give him a sour look.

            “You fear you will be deemed inadequate or unworthy?”

            Clint’s expression was still sour, but Thor knew Clint too well – the way the “V” disappeared from his forehead, briefly, told Thor enough.

            “You are a warrior and you are talented in the arts,” Thor calmly reasoned. “You will not be shamed, Clint. I do not care if they find you unworthy of being with an Asgardian – I have sworn to you – and only you – my eternal protection and loyalty. That should tell you how much you are worth to me.”

            Clint gave him a blank look before grumbling, burying his face back into Thor’s shoulder. The god smiled – he knew Clint would never admit he was right, nor would he give Thor the satisfaction of seeing him flush.

            He was glad Clint couldn’t see his smug smile at his minor victory, although he was sure Clint was suspecting it.

            “…When does he want to meet?” Clint finally muttered.

            “Whenever it is satisfactory for us,” Thor nodded.

            “Well, he better get used to waiting for a while – I’m not going to drop everything I’m doing just to appease your old man’s curiosity.”

            Thor just smiled.

            “I did not expect you to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll make a continuation to this chapter. Eventually. 
> 
> Also, I'm going to start accepting prompts for this series - send me a topic/prompt/idea/etc and I'll see if I can write a story about it.


	10. Cruel and Unusual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers have forgiven Clint, but there are some hold outs from SHIELD. Luckily for Clint, Thor has his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered how some agents would handle the whole brainwashed-Clint thing after he got back to his old self. Then I remembered Clint probably doesn't care.

            It took Clint a long time to forgive himself for the chaos he caused under Loki’s control. No one wanted to tell him how many died or what he did, and that made Clint feel worse – he knew he did terrible things and he was aware he did terrible things, but he never knew exactly what.

            Natasha would shut him down if he asked and the rest of the team would switch topics. Thor would always gently reassure Clint he was not to blame – Loki was, and Loki was going to pay dearly for it, as far as the thunder god was concerned.

            After a while, Clint grew to terms with what happened and moved on for the better. He had a “family” of sorts now – an insane one, but a family never less – and he had Thor by his side and to share his bed. As far as he was concerned, he was forgiven, albeit given light punishment by having to deal with Stark on a regular basis.

            Of course, some surviving members of SHIELD were not as forgiving.

            Sure, some forgave him, but other – younger – recruits, did not. They always walked away form him and spoke behind his back in hushed whispers. To Clint’s shock, the Avengers – the people who barely knew him and he tried to kill – defended him with a ferocity that he’d never seen before. Banner even once nearly released the Hulk in a particularly heated argument and Clint was pretty positive the team would have let him loose if Banner himself did not leave.

            Fury did his best to remedy the situation, mainly by showing the organization a long, detailed video about why brainwashing is bad and how Clint was a victim. This was followed by some protests and Fury finally losing his temper and threatening to let Natasha use one of those “motherfuckers” for target practice.

            That stopped the more outspoken members, but the resentment remained.

            Clint and the rest of the Avengers had come back from a particular grueling mission, resulting in Clint receiving a rather bad head injury, injured shoulder and arm, scraped leg, and a slash across his chest.

            It took Steve’s help for Clint to get out of the jet, his body sore from being thrown about it. The captain made sure he was on solid ground before leaving him. Clint winced as he pulled his quiver and bow onto his back and he momentarily wished Thor returned with them – as much as he’d kick and claw at Thor for it, he wouldn’t have minded the god carrying him so he wouldn’t have to walk on his damned leg.

            He tried his best to not show his discomfort as the team regrouped, noting two SHIELD agents who were staring at him, intently.

            “Serves him right,” the man said. “Kind of wished he got more injuries than that,”

            “I’m amazed they still keep him on the Avengers Initiative, Landon – who knows? Maybe Loki still has him under his power,” the woman replied.

            “Wouldn’t his eyes still be that creepy blue then?” the man named Landon asked.

            “They make colored contacts.”

            Clint swore they forgot he spoke English. After all, it wasn’t like they were speaking in some small, obscure tribal dialect he didn’t understand.

            “You got a good point…maybe he’s playing us as a fool,” the man replied. “Do you think we should tell Fury, Leanne?”

            “I think so – I doubt Fury considered that,” the woman Clint now knew as Leane said. “He could just be waiting for Loki’s orders. Maybe that’s why he’s with Thor; Loki wants him close to him so when he’s ready he can kill him?”

            “Has to be – why else would Thor be with him?”

            With the comments that Clint was still under Loki’s control and that his relationship with Thor was simply a plot, Clint felt he was now allowed to hate the two agents with every fiber in his body. That made Clint happy, for he wanted to hate them the minute he walked out of the jet.

            He could see Steve’s face contort into a displeased look and he knew the man heard the comments. He looked at Clint.

            “This doesn’t bother you?” Steve asked, trying to keep calm.

            Clint shrugged. “Not really. Used to it by now. Besides, it’s not me they need to worry about…” he added, voice trailing off as a twinge shot through his elbow.

            “I beg your pardon?”

            Clint smiled as he heard a thud behind him. He and Steve turned their heads to see the thunder god, hammer in hand, towering over the two. His sudden appearance startled the two agents. He had a look on his face that made Clint feel like he was a house cat staring at a lion.

            “…Right, I forgot about Thor,” Steve murmured.

            “Do you doubt Clinton Barton’s loyalty?” Clint heard Thor bellow in his thunderous voice, gesturing heavily with his hammer. Landon and Leanne sputtered something nonsensical, more focused on where Mjölnir was moving. “I can assure you that Clinton’s loyalty is to us and only us – and I take great offense at questioning our relationship.”

            Clint was hoping Thor would use the two for a morbid game of whack-a-mole.

            “Clinton, you’re smiling that smile,” Steve said.

            “What smile?”

            “The one you have right before someone gets hurt.”

            Clint grinned as Thor’s voice got very low and his lips curled in a snarl. The two agents sputtered some sort of apology and the god gestured with Mjölnir for them to leave, which they graciously did after tripping on their feet. The god frowned before turning and going over to the two men.

            “Should I ask what you threatened them with?” Clint asked cheerfully amongst the pain.

            “I merely reminded them that if they caused you trouble or harm I would either introduce them to Mjölnir or deliver them to Warrior Natasha – I asked them which they found preferable. They did not prefer either, so I suggested that they take their leave and hold their tongue. Tis a shame – I needed some practice with Mjölnir.”

            Steve stared at the god, blinking slowly.

            “I can’t tell if that’s just cruel or unusual, Thor.”

            Clint just grinned. Thor glanced down at his lover, noticing his pain, and swiftly picked him up.

            “And you’re suicidal,” Steve noted, taking a slight step back incase the archer started flailing and clawing at the god in protest before falling out of his arms and onto his back. Like the last time.

            “You know what? I’m in a good enough mood that I’ll let him get away with this – just for today,” Clint clarified with a smirk, crossing his arms. “Mind if we find those two? Because, clearly, this is the evil plot that Loki's gotten me to do.”

            Thor laughed. “It will be my pleasure, Little Hawk.”

            Steve just sighed and shook his head.

            “You two are just sick.”


	11. Be My Bad Boyfreengh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint never expected Thor to say those three magic words.

            It started off like a normal day – Clint had retreated up to the rafters in order to be alone for a few minutes. As much as he enjoyed the company of his teammates, Clint was a loner and the rafters were the only place he could be alone, even if for a little while.

            He zoned out after a while and only snapped back to reality when he felt Thor sit down by him, smiling warmly down at him. They had a long, enjoyable conversation then that lasted hours before Thor could coax the archer down and into his quarters with a smile and a wink.

            That’s how Clint found himself, once again, in Thor’s bed flat on his stomach, the god’s large hand rubbing his back, propped on one of his arms to stare down at Clint, smiling at the archer purred at his touch.

            That was when Thor said it.

            At first, the words didn’t register with Clint; when it finally hit him, it felt like Thor hit him over the head with a gold brick. His eyes shot open and he rolled onto his back and stared up at the god, eyes wide as saucers.

            “…What did you say?” Clint asked, slowly. He was pretty sure he knew what Thor said – after all, it was three simple, English words – but Clint felt like he needed to make sure he heard right

            “I love you, Clinton Barton,” Thor said, warmly. He reached down and ran the back of his palm down Clint’s cheek, affectionately. The god rarely used Clint’s full name unless he was being serious. Or if he was pissed. Based on the man’s affectionate smile and warm eyes, Clint was pretty sure it was the former instead of the latter.

            “…Are you drunk?”

            Clint reminded himself to stay classy. Fortunately, Thor was used to his humor. He laughed, heartily.

            “No, I am not, Little Hawk,” Thor said, laugh dying into a throaty chuckle, blonde hair cascading down his face as he continued to stroke Clint’s cheek, smiling. “Even if I was, I am sincere. I love you.”

            Clint just stared.

            “I believe I may have caught you off guard,”

            “No shit.”

            Until he met Thor, Clint’s “relationships” typically came about as the result of needing to keep his cover, drunken one night stands, or after a particular grueling spar or fight. They weren’t the sort of thing that evolved into something more. If any of his “partners” came out with those three little words, Clint would either smile and parrot back, or quickly pull his pants on while trying to run down the stairs and dodge blunt projectiles, depending on the situation.

            Thor stared down at Clint, quietly, still smiling. He knew the answer – he just wanted Clint to say it, and he wasn’t going to let Clint go without hearing them.

            Clint really hated the man’s stubbornness at time.

            The archer went red and tilted his head away, unable to look the god in the eyes.

            “…I love you too…”

            Clint went red; Thor just beamed and tilted the archer’s face so he was looking into his eyes, still with that smirk.

            “I did not hear you, Little Hawk,” the god said, smug. Clint rolled his eyes.

            “I said I fucking love you,” Clint grumbled sincerely, his face red.

            “I do enjoy hearing you say those words,” Thor said, joyously.

            Clint just rolled his eyes.

            “I believe this means, based on what the Man of Iron says, that this now makes you my boyfriend?”

            Clint wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill Tony now. 

            “…Yes…that means I’m now your…boyfreengh…”

            Thor blinked. Clint went red.

            “I meant your boyfreng…boyfring…give me a break! You caught me off guard goddamnit!”

            Thor bit his lower lip, trying not to laugh. After a few seconds, he buried his face into Clint’s chest and his body shook as he laughed, hard.

            “Do not worry, Little Hawk. I am enjoying this immensely,”

            “I figured.”


	12. Courting the Hawk I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor wasn't quite sure how to court Clint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt/request by Bored.

            Thor didn’t truly understand Midgardian customs when it came to courtship. The Asgardian method was quite simple – a young bride would wear an empty sheath, and if she captured Thor’s eye he would gain permission from her (in this case, his) family to court her/him. If they accepted, Thor would then place his family’s sword in the sheath she carried. If she accepted his intentions by keeping the sword, the parents would get together and regulate a dowry. The stronger and more independent the perspective partner was, the better. If the dowry was accepted, then the two were allowed together and eventually married in a long ceremony.

            Clint was a proud warrior and fiercely independent. There was no doubt he would be acceptable to his parents. That was something he didn’t need to worry about.

           The first problem was Clint didn’t discuss his parents – any attempt on Thor’s part to learn about them rewarded him with a fiery glare that would have melted an Ice Giant, if not all of Jotunheim. That meant Thor needed to gain permission of the person Clint was closest to, which would be Natasha. He considered seeking out Fury, but it became evident over time that the redhead was the one Clint had bonded with the most.

           He sought out Natasha, who was stunned by the god’s intentions. She accepted his decleration (adding the term that, if Thor hurt Clint in any capacity, she would hurt him) to Thor’s happiness.

           Then he remembered that Clint didn’t carry a sheath; nor did Thor have access to his family’s blade. He asked Natasha if looping the strap of Mjölnir through Clint’s belt loop would be a fitting replacement. That was when the assassin carefully reminded Thor that no one but him could lift the hammer; if he did that to Clint, he’d most likely rip the man’s hip out of his skin. She told him to simply ask Clint, straight out, if he was interested in “dating” Thor (which was a funny way to say courting, the god admitted).

           He found the archer in the rafters and asked him, bluntly. Clint’s shocked face worried Thor at first, but that eventually melted away into delirious joy when Clint accepted his intentions.

           That’s what led him back to Natasha to discuss the issue of a dowry. 

           “I do not understand,” Thor asked, perplexed, as Natasha stared, dumbfounded, into the leather pouch. “Is it not a fair amount?”

           “…Do I want to know why you tossed a bag of what appears to be very rare gems at me?” Natasha asked, carefully.

           “It is my dowry for Clinton Barton,” Thor stated, confused at her confusion. “I cannot offer you land or cattle, but I feel that is an acceptable value. I fear that there is no dowry that will truly represent how much I value him.”

           The Black Widow stared at Thor, blankly.

           “…You’re paying me to date Clint,” she rephrased, slowly.

           “Is that not the proper Midgardian custom?” Thor asked, now confused.

           The woman paused. Thor could tell she was trying to phrase her words very carefully.

           “Thor, you don’t…pay people to date someone,” she said, slowly. “You pay people to have sex with them, but I don’t think Clint would enjoy being seen as a hooker,”

           “…What is a ‘hooker’?” Thor asked, confused. 

           “Never mind,” Natasha sighed. “Look, I do understand some that cultures practice this, but we don’t. And Clint can be a bit thick headed and he _will_ take this the wrong way. Don't ask me how I know this."

           She tossed the pouch back at Thor’s chest. The god caught it with a slight grunt, looking back at the redhead with confusion.

           “I do not understand,”

           “Thor, you don’t need a dowry,” Natasha sighed. “You just spend quality time with him – find out his likes, his dislikes, his hobbies, that sort of things…you know, I never thought I’d ever be having this conversation with anyone, let alone a god,” she added, rubbing her forehead.

           “This is the Midgardian way? …Talking?” Thor asked. He was stunned by the relative simplicity of their courting methods.

           “Yes.  Take him out to eat, take him shooting, just do things with him,” Natasha said, her patience wearing thin. “That’s how we do it,”

           “How very informal,” Thor admitted. “And very peculiar,”

           “ _We’re_ peculiar?” Natasha echoed back.

 

**~*~**

 

            Thor wasn’t quite sure how to go about courting Clint. Instead of a dowry, they had to spend time together. In Asgard, the two never met until their wedding. Being together before that was just strange to Thor. But if that was Midgardian way, so be it.

            He thought for a long time about something he could do with Clint – the man was very private and kept to himself when he wasn’t practicing his aim – what the Warrior Natasha called “shooting”.

            Well, Clint spent a lot of his time shooting, actually; Thor felt that was perfect way to start courting Clint. His mind made up, he headed down to the shooting range and found Clint. The archer was alone in the shooting range, an array of firearms before him. Large green muffs hung tightly around his neck and clear, unsightly goggles covered his eyes. The man was placing round, bronze objects into a black bar of sorts, to Thor’s confusion. Clint looked up at the sound of footsteps and looked down before doing a double take when he realized it was Thor.

            “Thor? What are you doing down here?” the archer asked, surprised.

            “I came to see you,” the thunder god stated.

            Clint glanced at him, awkwardly. The god’s intentions and kiss left Clint thunderstruck and on edge. It became clear to the god that the archer was never properly courted, and he felt some relief that they were both in foreign territory.

            “I see you are shooting?” Thor asked, trying to clear the awkward air between them. The man blinked and then glanced back down at his gun.

            “Huh? …Oh, yeah,” Clint replied. “Well, I’m preparing to shoot – loading the clips right now.”

            Thor blinked. “What is a clip?”

            Clint blinked at the man and held up the black bar. “This is a clip. This one holds fifteen bullets,” he explained. “Kind of forgot you’re not from here,” he added.

            “No need to apologize,” Thor nodded. “I understand.”

            He watched Clint push the bullets into the clip, silently.

            “May you show me?”

            Clint looked up at the god, surprised. Even Thor wasn’t sure where the request came from.

            “You want to learn how to shoot?”

            There was a hint of surprise in Clint’s voice. Thor paused.

            “I would not mind.”

            Clint paused a little in silence, and Thor wondered if he crossed a line. After what felt like an eternity, Clint gave him a rare smile.

Thor felt his heart skip a beat.

            “Well, if you want to learn, alright.”

            He gestured Thor over with his fingers and the god approached him. He was amazed how close Clint was letting him stand and he felt that was a good sign. He watched Clint slide the top of the gun back, inspecting the slot carefully.

            “Alright, first rule is you always assume a gun is always loaded – even if you’re told it’s not,” Clint explained, staring down into the chamber. After he was satisfied it was empty, he showed the god the empty chamber. “See how you can see a faint light at the end?”     

            Thor nodded and Clint released the slide; it snapped into place with a satisfying click.

            “That means it’s empty. Here.”

            The god blinked as Clint took his hand and held it up, placing the grip of the pistol in his hand. The archer flushed a bit then and Thor found that Clint’s hands were soft and warm; his fingertips slightly calloused from using the bow.

            “Repeat what I just did,” the archer said, clearing his voice. The god paused, going through Clint’s steps in his head, pulling back the slide to show the empty chamber. Clint smiled.

            “There you go. Now, hold the gun securely in your hands and stand in a way that feels comfortable for you,” Clint explained, guiding Thor’s arms with his hands. “Keep your arms like this – it’ll form a triangle. Okay, good. Now bend your knees slightly and kept your feet about where your shoulders are.”

            Thor blinked. He wasn’t quite sure what he was doing as he followed Clint’s instructions, but Clint’s nod told him was doing fine, much to his relief.

            “Alright, good, you can relax now,” Clint nodded, picking up the clip. “There’s no safety on this, so be careful, okay?”

            Thor blinked. The safety? He had no idea what Clint was saying as the clip was placed into his hand.

            “Just slide this into the slot. You’re doing well so far.”

            Thor nodded and did so. Clint gave a slight, warm smile.

            “And we’re good to go - just don’t put you finger on the trigger until you fire,” Clint reminded the god.

            Thor blinked, holding the firearm straight ahead in the same stance Clint showed him. Trigger? What was a trigger?

            He felt his finger press down on something and jumped as a loud bang erupted in the range, quickly putting the firearm down, and backing up a few inches. Clint, for his part, was biting his lower lip to keep from laughing, his shoulders shaking.

            “That would be the trigger,” Clint said, fighting a very unmanly giggle that was forming in his voice. “It's a loud pistol - I was just getting ready to tell you to wear muffs.”

            Thor looked at the archer with wide eyes; Clint couldn’t hold it any longer and began laughing, hard, leaning against the divider as he laughed.

            “I wish you could have seen your face – your eyes were like goddamn saucers,” the archer was able to say in his laughing fit, wiping tears from his eyes. “I’ve never seen you so goddamn jumpy before,”

            “I did not expect it to go off,” Thor explained. He would have felt more defensive, but seeing Clint’s smile and hearing his happy laugh made him forget his own embarrassment and he smiled. Clint snickered, softly, glancing up at the target. He started laughing again.

            “The best part? You got it fucking dead center. You got a perfect shot and you weren’t even trying!”

            Thor blinked and glanced at the target and saw a small hole in the center. 

            “You better not be a marksman – I don’t plan on getting replaced anytime soon,” Clint said, laughter dying down as he finally managed to compose himself.

            Thor just smiled.

            “I believe you are irreplaceable, Clint Barton,” Thor said, genuinely.

            Clint was still smiling.

            “Just call me Clint.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since Thor is a Nordic god, I researched Norse courtship and marriage rituals for this. Originally, this was just going to end with the conversation Thor had with Natasha, but then it got away from me again. Unfortunately, it makes the story seem very disjointed. 
> 
> I was also very tired when I wrote this. I would like to rewrite this at some point. This and "Meet the Allfather" will have multiple parts.
> 
> I also have NO IDEA if Asgardians have cattle.


	13. Best Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint was never one to make mistakes.

            After his experience with Loki, Clint swore he wasn’t going to let his thunderous brother near him. Unlike Loki, Thor was bigger, stronger, and fought by bashing things with a blunt instrument.

            And he could summon lightning.

            Couldn’t forget _that_ little detail.

            So, when Thor attempted to be friendly with him, Clint withdrew. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake and let another god near him. He wasn’t going to let him get in his head and fuck him up like the last one.

            He would reward Thor with a cold stare for his attempts, and if Clint was feeling particularly civil, he would glower. Maybe even growl.

            When Thor respected his space and kept his distance, Clint relaxed. It became clear to him that Thor was genuinely kind and meant well – unlike his psychopathic brother.

            That’s when Clint made the mistake of returning Thor’s friendly gestures.

            The minute Clint let his guard down, the god followed him around like a puppy. He insisted they would train together (a bad idea, because Thor’s punches hit like a sack of wet cement) and enjoy their victories by drinking (again, a bad idea since Thor could drink a shelf-full of beer and only get a slight headache). He even dared to follow Clint up into his sacred spot in the rafters.

            But Clint couldn’t say anything – Thor was genuinely too nice and meant well. To Clint, it would have been like telling a six year old you loathed his very being and wished that terrible luck would befall him: a lot of tears, evil looks, and a beating.

            So, Clint tolerated Thor’s presence. After a while, he found he actually enjoyed the god’s presence. His curiosity and ignorance of their world often made Clint smile (and, if he was in a particularly good mood, a laugh) and his strong belief in redemption and the good in others made Clint humble. The man had been banished by his father and…well, his brother was Loki. The fact he could still cling to those ideals won Clint’s respect. It made Thor a better man than him.

            They had become good friends, really. They were soldiers, shared a similar sense of humor, and they had a strong rapport. Clint was the most tolerant with teaching him Earth ways and Thor, in return, would tell him about Asgard. They had a bond that the others didn’t, and it made Clint feel smug in a way.

            Even so, Clint was stunned when Thor asked to court him.

            Now, Clint wasn’t a stranger to the pleasures of men – he had as many male lovers as female. That wasn’t the problem.

            The problem was Thor wanted a _relationship_. As in, one based on things more than sex – like feelings, trust, and love.

            Clint wasn’t sure he could give Thor that. And Thor deserved so much more than what he could offer him.

            So, after a long pause, he made the second mistake by accepting.

            He regretted it at first. Thor could be so open with his emotions and intentions. Clint preferred bottling it up and storing it away. He was very uncomfortable with being so…open to Thor. The thunder god seemed to know this and only became affectionate towards Clint in private.

            He never pushed. He always waited, patiently, for Clint to come to him. As far as Thor was concerned, he spent thousands of years waiting for someone like Clint. He could wait a little while longer.

            He began to learn all of Clint’s little quirks (like how he never wore shoes or socks on couches or beds), all of his facial expressions, and all of his gestures. He could look at the archer during battle and if Clint’s jaw was tight and his shoulders too tense, he would be by his side in an instant to cover him. He could read Clint about as well as Natasha.

            To Clint’s own shock, he began to learn all of Thor’s quirks and nonverbal cues.

            That’s when Clint made the last mistake of letting Thor into his bed.

            Now, Thor was happy and content. He was pleased to finally have Clint all to himself and would fiercely protect and defend him (overly so, since even the most minor of insults set him off). He was the only one who could comfort and calm Clint when he was in pain without getting his head bitten off. He was the only person Clint grew to completely trust with his body, mind, and soul. The only person Clint allowed past his walls. And sometimes, it scared Clint with how close Thor was. Because in his job, getting too close often meant he would get hurt.

            It was a mistake, letting Thor get that close.

            And whenever Thor wrapped his arms around him and kissed him deeply, he would only smile and forget all that.

            “Why are you smiling, Little Hawk?” Thor asked, snapping Clint out of his thoughts, his arms wrapped around the archer, holding him against his chest.

            “No reason,” Clint murmured, silencing Thor’s question with another kiss, tangling his hands in Thor’s blonde mane, sighing contently when the god returned the kiss with equal passion.

            Being with Thor was a mistake.

            But it was the best mistake he ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came to me after listening to "Best Mistake" by Conditions. It's an absolutely amazing song and I recommend listening to it while reading this story http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9SfngfB4Wao . The story has an upbeat message to it compared to the song, however.
> 
> Apologies for the delays updating this. I have many ideas still for "Thunderstruck", but I am currently preparing a new longer, plot-driven story featuring Thor and Clint.


	14. Courting the Hawk II OR Starkish Courting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor gets courting advice from Stark. Clint doesn't appreciate it.

            Thor was finding that courting Clint was proving difficult. He welcomed his advances, but Thor was never sure what to do. Clint was not Asgardian, so many of his Asgardian ways only perplexed the archer, such as the time he tried to loop Mjölnir through his belt loop. Other times, it made Clint laugh. Hysterically. Until his cheeks turned red and he cried. Like that one time he tried to join Clint shooting and he ended up startling himself.

           He decided, then, that he didn’t really like shooting.

           That’s when he decided to seek help elsewhere. Natasha shrugged him off. Bruce wasn’t helpful. Steve went red, sputtered, and went off. Stark was the only one with useful advice.

            Least, that’s what he thought.

            When he tried Stark’s methods, Clint merely blinked at Thor. His expression was unreadable, as always, and Thor suspected that Clint was either susceptible to Stark’s methods or he was laughing hysterically at him.

            “…What?”

            “Hello, Sexy,”

  
            “…Sexy?”

            “Stark said it is a term one uses when the body of their romantic partner proves to be irresistible and causes one to feel aroused and want to take them to bed.”

            Clint continued to stare.

            “…I know what it means, Thor…”

            “Oh good, for you had a quizzical look on your face and I feared you did not understand my intentions.”

            Clint continued with his blank stare. Thor was used to it by now.

            “Of course, I have no desire at this point in time to take you to bed. We are still getting to know one another on a deep level, and I rather not sully what we have so far accomplished by giving in to my carnal desires.”

            Thor’s eyes lingered on the scar just above Clint’s eyebrows before trailing down to Clint’s biceps, arms, and finally legs. Women had soft curves and were warm and nuzzly, true, but they often lacked the hard, taught muscles and scarred skin of a warrior.

Well, except Sif. But Sif was like his sister and being with her would be like being with his brother: wrong on so many levels that Thor couldn’t even count.

            “…Oh god-we’re seriously having this conversation?” Clint asked, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

            “That we are,” Thor nodded. “But I feel I need to compliment on your figure, and Stark suggested I try more Midgardian ways. He made some comment that you most likely feel inferior towards me, for I am a god and you…to paraphrase, the least attractive warrior on the team,”

            “…Did Stark say I was the ugliest son of a bitch in this place?”

            “Why, those were his exact words! You know Stark quite well-”

            “-I’m going to fucking KILL him-” Clint interrupted.

            “-so I felt I needed to reaffirm the fact you are very attractive to me. Therefore, you are sexy,” Thor continued.

            “Jesus, Thor,” Clint sighed. “I don’t care what Stark thinks,”

            “You do not? Then why would the Man of Iron say you feel inferior?”

            Clint tilted his head and gave Thor a look.

            “…This is on par with Stark, I assume?” Thor asked.

            “The man joked about getting Steve whores so they can “fondue”. I can’t tell if he was serious or joking,”

            “I do see your point,”

            “And, Thor, you calling me sexy? It sounds _weird_. Very…not-Thor,” Clint explained. “Just be yourself,”

            “I do not understand,”

            “For Chrissake…Thor, if you find me attractive, tell me using _your_ words, not Stark’s, because I am _not_ going to bed with a man who talks like Stark. I would rather castrate myself,”

            “So, you do desire to bed with me?”

            If Clint went any redder, Thor swore he would have looked like a tomato or tanned himself. He sputtered, nonsensically.

            “Don’t switch topics! Come on, if you find me attractive, tell me using YOUR words,” Clint challenged, trying to keep himself from turning into a tomato.

            Thor blinked.

            “I still do not understand,”

            “Oh for Chrissake…Thor, however you see me is the way I want you to talk about me. Not using “sexy” or “gorgeous” or anything like that. And if Stark told you to call me a sparkling Adonis statue, I’m going to hit you and kill him for that _terrible_ reference.”

            Thor wasn’t quite sure what Clint meant by “reference”, but based on his venomous hatred for it, he filed that away for a future date.

            “So, do not call you by typical Midgardian terms,” Thor clarified.

            “Right,” Clint nodded.

            “So, do not call you “sexy”?”

            “Right,”

            “But I am allowed to say that I find your eyes full of life and richer than any emerald?” Thor asked, perplexed. “That every battle mark on your skin is a reminder of your strength and determination, and that it sends shivers throughout my body? That on the rare occasions you do smile, your eyes shine brighter than the stars on Asgard? That, eventually, I would love to learn every part of you and be the only one to have that claim and right?”

            He tilted his head in confusion as Clint stared at him, wild-eyed. He swore the archer’s jaw would have dropped in the worst case scenario.

            “You would prefer if I said those things instead of what Stark instructed me to say?”

            Clint continued to stare.

            “…Er…yeah…I would…”

            He flushed an interesting shade of red.

            “Look…I need to take care of something right now. I’ll see you later and please hit Stark for me.”

            Thor blinked and Clint left. The god tilted his head in confusion.

            He really didn’t understand Midgardians. But that made Clint happy, therefore it made Thor happy.

            Now, he needed to find Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While discussing ThunderHawk ideas with a friend, she suggested Stark try to teach Thor modern courting rituals. I was having a hard time writing Thor, so she agreed to help me play it out, her writing Thor's line and I did Clint's. We ended up laughing like idiots. She does Thor too well.
> 
> Also, this was an excuse to have Thor speak in the most flowery manner possible. I can't tell if it's hilarious or sweet, but man is it fun to write.
> 
> And now you know my opinion on Thorki.


	15. Stress Releiver

“What troubles you, Little Hawk?”

  
“Hmm?”

  
Thor looked up at Clint, the archer sitting on the god’s lap, shirt off, sweat pants too big for him sliding down his legs, revealing black boxers. One of Thor’s hands rested on Clint’s thigh, the other on Clint’s hip. The god shook his head to remove hair from his eyes. The archer tutted and tugged on his hair.

  
“Something troubles you,”

  
“Nothing’s bothering me,”

  
“You are braiding my hair.”

  
Clint had developed a habit that, when something was stressing him, he would braid Thor’s hair. Incessantly. If he could, he’d braid the entirety of Thor’s hair. Mostly, he just settled for two, particular locks in the front and would braid both to frame his face. Then he would undo them and repeat the process.

  
“So, I can’t braid your hair?”

  
Thor wasn’t sure how to answer that without getting punched. Or bit.

  
“You only braid when stressed,” Thor rephrased.

  
Clint shrugged. He yanked on Thor’s hair to tell the god he wasn’t amused.

  
“Just antsy,”

  
“May I ask why?”

  
“Stark,”

  
“Ah.”

  
Clint didn’t need to elaborate. Thor knew that Tony and Clint either got along famously, or Clint wanted to suffocate him in his sleep. It all depended on Tony’s mood that day. And if Steve was available.  
Thor moved one hand to the small of Clint’s back and gently massaged it. He felt the man shudder and he smirked.

  
“I know a better way to soothe you,” he added, voice deep and sultry.

  
“Yeah, yeah. After I finish this braid.”

  
Thor knew better than to press the issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was something that got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote about it.


	16. Stubborn [SONGBIRD verse]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's stubborn. Thor's sort of accepted it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story doesn’t follow the rest of the Thunderstruck canon, since it takes place in the SONGBIRD verse.

            Clint was stubborn. Thor knew that. The man never backed down from a fight, even if his opponent was bigger, bulkier, and taller than him.

            The downside? He never knew when to stop.

            That was why Thor was busy kneading Clint’s shoulders, the archer moaning in content as Thor massaged the tightness away. The man muttered a reply, muffled due to his face being in the pillow.

            “Little Hawk?” Thor asked. Clint murmured and lifted his head.

            “I said you could fucking melt concrete,” Clint murmured, laying his head back down. Thor swore the man was purring.

            “It was not wise to spar with Cobb,” Thor chastised. This rewarded him with an eye-roll from Clint.

            “We sparred before,”

            “Prior to his…as what you all describe as his “incident” when he gained his immense strength and other powers,”

            “So?”

            “He threw you into a wall, Little Hawk,”

            “And?”

            Thor sighed, continuing to massage Clint’s shoulders. The archer groaned, content. For a man who was a hardened assassin, he certainly turned into putty when he received a massage, the thunder god mused.

            “I worry, Little Hawk,”

            “You always worry,” Clint murmured, not really paying attention to the man above him. “I’ll be fine,”

            “Before or after nearly being electrocuted?”

            “That was an accident.”

            Thor sighed. The team had been fighting off a group of hostiles, and Clint was accidently thrown into a small pool of water. It took Thor nearly a minute to realize a live wire was dangling, precariously, over it, and he nearly pulled Clint out in time before Cobb used the cable to electrocute the hostiles that were overpowering Clint. That later resulted in Thor and Cobb getting into a shouting match, which eventually evolved into the two getting into a rather physical altercation before Fury arrived and kindly reminded Thor that snapping Cobb’s neck wasn’t exactly a good idea, while Clint tried to will the floor to swallow him whole.

            Well, it was mainly Thor yelling and Cobb trying to apologize for the incident. Least, that’s what the team later said.

            “I worry you do not know your limits,” Thor sighed.

            “I know my limits – I’m with you, aren’t I? Pretty sure a lot of people can’t handle you in…various circumstances.”

            Thor wasn’t quite sure if that was an insult. Then again, that was Clint.

            “I do not throw you into walls or attempt to crush you,” Thor reasoned.

            “Oh? And you don’t?”

            “I have learned my strength,”

            “Right, right. That hand shaped bruise on my hip says otherwise,”

            “That is different,”  
            “Thor, I’m fine, okay? I can handle him.”

            The thunder god looked down at his lover, and simply sighed, shaking his head.

            “If you insist on…as you say, ‘getting your ass kicked’, I will let you, because that’s the only way you’ll learn.”

            Clint just snorted; Thor sighed.

            It was going to be a long few weeks.


	17. Meet the Allfather II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin's tired of waiting. Clint isn't exactly thrilled.

            Clint snorted awake when something heavy hit him, using his hand to push something heavy and cold off his face. He opened his eyes, slightly, glaring at the object which he slowly recognized as a black (or VERY dark brown) leather coat of some odd design. He rubbed his eyes, lowering the coat to see Thor standing above him, dressed in his armor, Mjölnir in hand.

            “…Someone dead? City under attack? Banner throw Stark through a wall?” Clint muttered, fighting a yawn.

            “No for all those,” Thor explained.

            “Then why the fuck did you wake me?”

            Clint was never a morning person, and usually any attempt to wake him was rewarded with being punched, kicked, or bit. Thor was the lucky one, though, for Clint would only glance up at him, grab his arm, then roll onto his stomach and trap Thor there. Thor knew this and fought the urge to gently shake his lover awake, instead tossing the coat at his face.

            “You need to be dressed,” Thor announced.

            Clint glanced at the coat, then at Thor. “Why?”

            “Father grows...impaitent with waiting,”

            “Fuck your father,”

            “I would hold my tongue, Little Hawk. We do not know if Heimdal is watching.”

            Clint cursed the fact that he was now granted with the knowledge that, at any time, Asgard’s watchful guard could have witnessed them having wild, passionate sex.

            “Thor, I’m not ready,” Clint muttered, rolling onto his side. He yelped when Thor yanked him up.

            “Father is,”

            “I told you I loved you only a few days ago – what happened with baby steps?” Clint grumbled as Thor dragged him to the bathroom, shoving him and some clothes in and shutting the door, standing by to prevent escape. The god listened as Clint stripped and entered the shower.

            “Father feels you will put this on indefinite hold. And once we have expressed our love that I must introduce my…we do not have a term for ‘boyfriend’ in Asgard,” Thor shouted over the water.

            “You know, you’re old man needs to learn that you can’t just, you know, fucking PUSH people into these things,” Clint shouted back.

            “I am aware,”

            “Heimdal isn’t watching is he?”

            “I would think that there is no threat to Asgard from Midgard.”

            He heard the water shut off and the sink go on. He waited as he listened to the ruffle of clothes and the click of the door knob. The god turned as Clint emerged, grumbling down at his choice in clothes.

            “Seriously?” Clint asked, gesturing down to black slacks, white dress shirt, brown leather vest, and fingerless gloves.

            “You did not have proper Asgardian wear,”

            “Oh, so you, what, had some sent down? I look like I come from a fucking Brother’s Grimm story,”

            “I want you to leave a good impression on Father,” Thor explained, picking up the long coat Clint had thrown and held it open. The archer, for his part, glared at Thor’s chivalry, but reluctantly put the coat on, tugging on the collar.

            “So, making me dress like…THIS is going to help? You ashamed of me or something?”

            “No, I am not. I am proud to have you as my lover. But Father…Father is…well…” Thor tried to clarify.

            “Let me guess, hard to please?”

            Clint carefully omitted “stubborn”, “fucking idiotic”, and “worst father in the universe” from his sentence.

            “Yes. You see…I do not want to say he was displeased with our relationship,” Thor explained, phrasing his words carefully. “But he is unsure with my involvement with a Midgardians. He does approve of you being a warrior and Mother approves of your cultural background.”

            Clint just glared up at Thor.

            “…Is it because I’m a guy?” the archer asked.

            “What? No,” the god said, perplexed.

            “If this was JANE, would he be okay with it?”

            “You are now being unreasonable.”

            Thor tactfully left out the fact Odin wasn’t shy with showing his displeasure with Jane Foster. He was glad, though, that he was at least more receptive to Clint.

            “I don’t believe you,” Clint accused.

            Thor just shook his head and pulled Clint into his chest, arm around his waist, looking down at the archer.

            “You need to trust me. It will be alright.”

            Thor was glad he couldn’t hear Clint’s next comment as they were surrounded by a pillar of light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly based Clint's "Asgard clothes" off Hansel's.


	18. Family I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor doesn't know anything about Clint's family.

“Do you have any family?”

  
Clint raised his head from Thor’s lap, watching the god looking down at him. They had been comfortable on the couch, watching TV, Clint curled up and content, Thor stroking his hair with one big hand. Clint was so comfortable he was ready to fall asleep when the god broke his thoughts and spoke.

  
“…What?”

  
“You never speak of family,” the god said, resting his hand on Clint’s neck. “May I ask why?”

  
“No,” Clint grumbled. He was content…

  
“…Are you ashamed of me?” Thor asked. “Is this way you do not speak of your parents?”

  
“My parents are dead, Thor,” Clint said, flatly.

  
“…Oh…”

  
Thor paused, shifting in his spot, uncomfortable.

  
“…I apologize…I should have not assumed…”

  
“It’s okay. The awkwardness is so intense it’s kind of pleasurable,” Clint shrugged. He wished he was lying, but seeing Thor all uncomfortable was enjoyable.

  
“…Do you wish to discuss it?” Thor asked, trying to be supportive.

  
“Thor, I barely knew my parents. They died in a car crash when I was…four, maybe,” Clint admitted, keeping some of the more…unsavory details to himself.

  
“I am sorry…”

  
“Thor, don’t. It was years ago,” Clint scolded.

  
“…How…may I ask, did you survive?”

  
Clint rolled onto his back, looking up at Thor, the god’s hand falling from his neck to his chest, still absentmindedly stroking him like a large cat. Clint fought back a purr.

  
“My brother pulled me out before the fire spread,” Clint admitted.

  
“You have a brother?”

  
“Yeah. Six years older. Name’s Barney – he prefers Barnes, because it prevents terrible purple dinosaur jokes,” Clint chuckled softly.

  
“…Purple dinosaur?” Thor asked, perplexed.

  
“Don’t ask – seriously, do not ask,” Clint sighed. The last thing he needed to show Thor was that debacle of pop culture. The god just looked down at him and shrugged his shoulders.

  
“Continuing frwards, why have you not mentioned this….Barnes, is it?”

  
“He prefers Barnes. And I just never thought to bring him up,” Clint admitted.

  
“…Forgetting one’s family is…a bit difficult to forget. Does he shame you?”

  
“What? No – Barnes and I get along fine,” Clint scoffed. “I mean, he’s insane – like Tony – but he’s a good guy,”

  
“…Then why have you not…?”

  
“Mentioned him? I dunno. Our jobs kind of keep our interactions limited – he’s sort of a vigilante, I guess. He keeps tabs on me, I keep tabs on him. We keep each other out of trouble and we only meet up a few times a month,”

  
“Have you met with him recently?” Thor asked.

  
“Not yet. He usually contacts me when he’s around. He called not that long ago – a few weeks, maybe? A month?” Clint explained.

  
“…Have you told him about us?” Thor interrupted.

  
“Yeah,”

  
“…And?”

  
Clint smirked, noticing Thor’s worried look, gripping Clint’s shirt, trying his best to not look like a deer in headlights.

  
“Want his approval?”

  
“That matters not,”

  
“Yeah, it does,”

  
“Little Hawk…”

  
“He wants to meet you, because, well, Barnes doesn’t like people. Or trust people. The world would be better without other people, he’s convinced,” Clint shrugged with a smile. “He just wants to see if you’re an okay guy.”

  
Lord help Thor, Clint mused. Barnes was very…intense. In fact, the man redefined intense. His response to someone harassing Clint at a bar was to first give a warning, and when the man poked Barnes in the forehead, he received a swift headbutt then an unconvincing apology in return.

  
“…So he wishes to meet in order to gauge my worth? …What if he does not find me a suitable partner?”

  
Clint smirked.

  
“Remember when you told me not to worry about what your old man said?” the archer asked, teasingly.

  
“That was different,” Thor insisted.

  
“Yeah-no, it’s not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad that I haven't updated this in....what, a month? But I've been busy plotting out my "Protectors" story, so this got kicked aside. That and I didn't have a good idea and I didn't want to force it.
> 
> So....yes! People forget Clint has a brother! So, I'm happy to announce that I will be using Barney Barton in my stories now. Since this is a movieverse!Barney, I'm going to say he looks like Nathan Fillion.
> 
> Most of Clint's background was based on the comics, but I felt if I went into all the details it'd be too dark and very un-Thunderstruck like...because of this, I'll probably write up a spare story/series discussing it at a later date. Until now....enjoy!


	19. Meet the Allfather III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never insult Clint's skills.

            Clint decided he really didn’t like the Asgardian way of travel, gripping onto Thor as they arrived, feeling like he had been through the spin cycle of the washer. He growled, cursing under his breath at Thor. Thor, for his part, ignored him.

            “Greetings, Heimdall!”

            Clint turned his head, briefly, to glance up at the man Thor was addressing. He was tall, muscular, dark skinned, with gold eyes. So this was the gatekeeper of Asgard…

            “Welcome home,” Heimdall replied, stoically, voice deep. He nodded his head at Clint. “The King is expecting him.”

            The archer glared up at Thor as the warrior escorted him off, linking his arm with his, beaming pleasantly.

            “The whole goddamn REALM knows about this?”

            “No. Heimdall does for he had to bring us both here. Relax, Little Hawk. Enjoy yourself.”

            Clint grumbled, annoyed, then finally became increasing aware that he was walking on nothing but color – not just color, but a rainbow road in the middle of a dark, starry sky. Pretty, in a creepy “thinking you’re going to fall straight through” way, he mused.

            “We have repaired the Bifrost Bridge which we currently are walking on,” Thor said, proudly.

            “Repaired?”

            “It was damaged in my battle with Loki.”

            Clint momentarily wondered how on earth one would break a bridge composed solely of color. Thor’s response was enough of an explanation for him. If he thought too much on it, he was pretty sure his brain would implode.

            “You don’t need to hold my arm,” Clint grumbled.

            “This is customary,” Thor stated, proudly.

            “It’s embarrassing.”

            Thor opted to ignore Clint as they walked through Asgard, Clint looking around him at the clear, virtually sparkling water, golden, towering buildings, lush greenery, and purple and blue colored sky. He had to admit Asgard was pretty. Thor was a lucky man to have lived in a place such as this. He momentarily wondered what it looked like a night. It must have been pretty.

            Be became aware of his surroundings changing, now walking down long golden halls, part of the wall with arches on one side, exposing them to the world outside.

            “Mother and Father wish to meet you in a less formal setting,” Thor explained, turning them to the right and onto a balcony. Clint could already spot two figures: a blonde haired woman donned in a golden gown and a man in golden armor. “They fear you would be overwhelmed,”

            “I survived an alien invasion, I don’t think that’s possible,” Clint cursed. Thor beamed, approaching the couple.

            “Mother, Father.”

            The woman turned, smiling at Thor with warm eyes, going over to hug him.

            “Thor, it is good to see you,” she said, her voice rich and loving. Thor smiled.

            “It is. Mother, Father, this is the one called Clint Barton. Little Hawk, this is my mother and my father, Frigga and Odin.”

            Frigga smiled at Clint, warmly.

            “It is a pleasure to meet the one who holds Thor’s affection,”

            “Same,” Clint said. He wasn’t feeling comfortable wearing the leather outfit from Hell Thor had tossed him before their arrival and now in the presence of his parents. “Pleasure to meet you.”

            Frigga smiled at him. Odin kept an eye on him.

            “So you are the young warrior,”

            “Yeah, that’s me,” Clint stated. This was his first time meeting anyone’s parents, so it was odd for him.

            “He tells me you are quite a talented archer,”

            “I’d like to say so,” Clint shrugged. He tried to pull his arm out form Thor’s but he held firm. “Kind of a master archer,”

            “I see that as an impressive feat for a Midgardian.”

            Clint furrowed his brow at him; Frigga sighed; Thor kept quiet.

            “A Midgardian? I bet I can take on any of your archers here,” Clint said, forcing a smile. He could feel his competitive side come out. He had a feeling Odin wouldn’t approve of him, being a Midgardian, and he knew he had to prove his worth. He wasn’t sure where that urge came for, but the mere indication he was unworthy of Thor irked him.

            “Little Hawk…” Thor murmured, softly.   
            “Honor, I see. You truly are a warrior then,” Odin said with a nod.

            “How about I give you a little demonstration of my skills?”

            “Little Hawk…”

            “I like this one. Come, then. Show me your skills.”

            Clint smiled. Thor looked heavenwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god been a while since I updated this.


End file.
